


Adaptability

by Judithan



Category: The Legend of Zelda & Related Fandoms, The Legend of Zelda: Twilight Princess
Genre: Amputation, Depression, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Unhealthy Coping Mechanisms
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-09-23
Updated: 2016-09-23
Packaged: 2018-08-16 22:06:45
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,526
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8119198
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Judithan/pseuds/Judithan
Summary: Link had never considered deeply on what would happen after his journey ended, when Midna would no longer need his shadow and when Light and peace would be restored to Hyrule. He never considered that the final battle might not go according to plan.He never considered he might lose it all; Midna, the Triforce, his sword arm, his sense of purpose.





	

**Author's Note:**

> This has a lot of really harsh emotional moments and is generally really toxic at first so if that's something that isn't for you, I'd suggest turning back  
> I also didn't take that much time on editing this, since I'm trying a kind of different style so if anywhere sounds weird please let me know!

“It hurts, Illia...”

“I know, I know, I’m sorry, I can’t - I can’t help more.”

Her hand burns his skin with every touch and he hisses in retreat. The light hasn’t graced his room in days, and she can’t stand to look at him in this state. Bags run low under his eyes, his face gaunt and lifeless. It had only been weeks since he came home, and yet here he was.

With the help of the mayor, Link had moved what furniture he had upstairs to the ground floor. In his state, he couldn’t handle such heights, and he couldn’t build makeshift stairs in his house like he had done to his entrance.

“Link, I need to get you help, please, let me-”

“Just leave me… just get out!” Snarling as if he was some beast, Illia can’t help but grip her chest tight. But she’s never been one to fight, so she flees. She runs home, cries into her father's arms, listens to his gentle suggestions. A break, from him, from her, from home, he suggests asking for help dealing with the poor boy. After all, nobody could handle a task like this alone.

Telma, she could help! After all, she was there for Illia when she needed her most! Surely she would know how to help Link.

She spent the night writing a letter to her dearest bartender and caretaker. Crumpled papers littered her bedroom floor but by the time morning came she had a sealed letter to give to the postman. He’s off as soon as the paper touches his hand and all that’s left to do is wait. In the meantime, Illia busies herself with taking fresh bandages and spring water to Link to clean his injury and tend to his hygiene as best she can.

In the darkness, she can’t see his face clearly, but his voice is hoarse, and he can hardly stand. She doesn’t have to see him to know he’s not taking care of himself, to know that he’s falling apart from the inside out.

This goes on for several days until Telma writes back, saying she has a great idea on how to help, but that Link will need to come to Castle Town. The idea terrifies him, he shrieks that he can’t be seen like this. Illia disagrees but still insists on giving him a thorough cleaning, and a cloak to cover his body if he needs. That calms him down enough to finally set foot outside of his house. The children look on in awe as Link is loaded into a carriage, head covered in the cloak, ashamed of his appearance.

In her heart, Illia knows this is for the better, but it still hurts. It hurts to see him like this, a shell of the man he once was.

“We’re almost there, are you going to be okay?” It’s out of concern, he knows that, she knows that, but she can’t bring herself to reach out to him like she once would have. It’s not like that anymore. It’s never going to be like that again. She can’t shake the feeling like she’s truly lost her one closest friend, but as they approach the town she knows this is how it has to be. They pull in and stop just outside the bar. Link pulls the hood of the cloak back over his head, covering his matted, sweaty hair and lifeless expression.

“Illia, my dearest! It is so nice to see you again! Although, I do wish it were under better circumstances. Now, where’s the boy?” Telma is warm, heart on her sleeve and a breath of fresh air after the suffocating aura that surrounded the retired hero. “Ah, I didn’t recognize you under the cape. Will you come out of there for me, Link?”

He shakes his head, and she frowns in return but doesn’t push further.

“Well, I know it must have been hard coming all this way out, but I’ve arranged some temporary living for you, I’m sorry if it’s a bit of a shock.” Link’s head shoots up in the middle of her talking, he didn’t know. Illia couldn’t bring herself to tell him that this was the ‘help’ that she was giving him. “I can’t even imagine how tough it must be for you, but I asked around and Shad said he would be more than willing to help rehabilitate you.”

“N-no! That’s not - Illia, is this what you thought I wanted?!” Telma attempts to calm him, but that just pushes him further into a fury, arms flying wildly to push her away, only to knock the cloak back from his face.

The look on Telma’s face is stern, and he scrambles to pull it back.

“I can’t do this anymore, Link! I know you need me, but I can’t do it! I’m not strong enough to support you, too. I can’t… I’m sorry… please forgive me…” Sobbing into her fists, Illia practically falls into herself, Telma rushes to her side to keep her from collapsing to the floor. Even from under the cowl the look of pure horror is plain as day on Link’s face.

“Okay, okay, I’ll… I’ll go.” Telma motions to someone behind Link, and it’s clear now that this was never really an option. Bespectacled and awkward, Shad walks in clutching dearly to a book in his hand. Link can’t even begin to imagine how this scene would look to him.

“Old boy…” His voice is soft, gentle, so very touched and caring. Without another word to the girls, just a shy glance begging for a silent forgiveness, Link follows the scholar home. 

His home is only a few blocks away from the bar, but with having to cover his face from curious onlookers, it feels like an eternity. In the end, Shad’s house is nothing more than a small bottom floor condo in the housing district, but Link finds it fitting. After all, what more could the scholar reasonably afford in a bustling city like this? Though that thought was quickly abandoned once they walked inside and Link found it to be not only immaculate but well furnished. Perhaps he was better off than Link had assumed.

“Ah, shoes off at the door, if you would.” Link manages to kick off his loafers with relative ease. 

No longer needing to keep the cloak over his face, he lets it fall uselessly to the floor. If Shad had a negative opinion about his appearance, he kept it good and well to himself, not even letting it show on his face - save for the general concern he constantly wore.

“What’s first in order, a tour or a bath, would you say?”

Shad gives him the genuine option, but still leads him into his living room to give him a small tour.

“I’m very tired, can those wait for the morning?”

“Oh, of course, old boy. Let me show you to where you’ll be staying.” He leads Link into a side room that would easily be described as a miniature library considering the sheer number of books and bookshelves that line the walls. “Please ignore the mess, I hadn’t had time to properly clean the study before your arrival, but I have set up a nice sleeping space for you.” It’s nothing more than a cleaned out empty part of the library with a small bed and a curtain for privacy. Though, there is fresh sheets, almost half a dozen pillows, and more blankets than Link could ever see himself using. Shad looked back at Link, trying to find any form of validation.

Link weakly smiles back at him, and that’s plenty.

“Do you need help changing, or any food? I’m sure the ride here must have been long -”

“Shad, thank you, but I’m very tired…” Link doesn’t mince words, and sits himself down on the bed. Regardless of what he wishes best for Link, he knows that there’s no need to rush anything, and it’ll all come back with time and diligence.

“Ah, understood. If you need anything do not hesitate to ask, I’ll come check on you in the morning. Sleep well, Link.” Shad lowers the curtain behind him and disappears soundlessly into the rest of the house. Once alone, Link falls back into the bed and covers his face with his hand.

How could he have let himself get this bad?

How did he not see what he was doing?

He can feel himself falling apart again, but manages to reel himself back in just before he starts crying again. He needed sleep and this wouldn’t help. Body like lead, he only manages to pull covers over himself with the fact that Shad provided him with far too many. Shad was far too nice, but he couldn’t refuse what was the truth, he needed rest, and just closing his eyes briefly was enough to lull him to sleep.

In his sleep he couldn’t feel the phantom pain, the empty shadows, the Triforce emblem on his hand disappearing as he watched his sword arm being severed by Ganondorf's sword.

He slept restlessly that night.


End file.
